lips and drawing him in deeper. As the tears fell down her cheeks, she kissed him as if it were their last chance, as if she were dying, as if the world was set to end and this was their epic goodbye.
Fuck, she tasted so good. So fucking right. So bloody perfect his head was already spinning, his cock bulging uncomfortably in his pants.
He wanted her—all of her. Her mouth biting his shoulder. Her hands stroking him hard and fast. Her perfect ass reddening beneath his commanding touch. Her toned thighs wrapped around his face as he sucked and licked and teased, her hands fisting his hair as she screamed his name, over and over…
Dorian broke their kiss, his whole body trembling with the need to possess her. “Fucking hell, woman.”
He couldn’t take it anymore. The kissing, the soft sighs, her hands in his hair…
It wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. He needed more, and he needed it right fucking now.
He grabbed her shoes and rose from the bench. Then, scooping her into his arms, he gathered his woman close, nuzzled her neck, and whispered his next command—one he wouldn’t allow her to disobey.
Not tonight.
Not ever again.
“I’m taking you home, Charlotte D’Amico.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“Strip,” Dorian demanded, jamming the button to close the privacy window. “Now.”
He’d just blurred Charlotte across the park and deposited her into the waiting limousine, and now she sat on the leather bench seat across from his own, still trying to catch her breath.
Her lush lips, red and swollen from their earlier kiss, parted in surprise. “In here? Are you crazy?”
She glared at him across the darkened space as though she’d already made the diagnosis, and hell, maybe he was crazy. Utterly certifiable.
In that moment, he didn’t care.
“Perhaps I was unclear, Ms. D’Amico,” he said, his tone as relentless as the rock-hard bulge in his pants. “That wasn’t a request.”
New heat flared in her eyes, bringing a dark splash of color to her cheeks.
Oh, how he’d missed making her blush…
As Jameson smoothly navigated them through Friday rush-hour traffic, Dorian continued to hold her gaze.
Moments passed.
City blocks passed.
An eternity passed.
Dorian was beginning to fear he’d pushed too hard, too soon. But then, miracle of bloody miracles, she lowered her eyes and slid the wrap from her shoulders, a seductive smile stealing across her lips.
His heart lurched sideways. It was everything, that smile. Radiant and beautiful. Sweet and sultry. Devastating.
And by its light, Dorian knew, at long last, Charlotte was his to command once again.
The realization sent a throb to his cock.
“Yes, Mr. Redthorne,” she said, lowering the zipper at her side. Slowly, torturously, she peeled the dress from her body, revealing her soft skin, one provocative inch at a time.
Dorian’s gaze traveled across her collarbone, skimmed over a delicate lace bra the color of ripe raspberries, straight down to the matching lace below, all of it making his mouth water.
Charlotte folded the dress in her lap, then carefully set it aside, raising an eyebrow as if she were daring him to issue another command.
Don’t worry, love. We’re just getting started.
“Forgive me,” he said, stroking his jaw, “as I’m quite advanced in years and my memory is unreliable at best. But I could’ve sworn I ordered you to strip. Did I not?”
“You did, Mr. Redthorne. I’m sorry.” With a mischievous grin, she unclasped her bra and tossed it aside, gifting him with the sight of her full, perfect breasts, dark pink nipples hardening at the barest brush of the car’s air conditioning.
She removed the matching panties next, slowly dragging them down her long legs.
Before she could set them aside, Dorian’s hand shot out, gesturing like a greedy child at the cookie jar. “Mine.”
She tossed the panties to him, and he caught them and brought them to his mouth, inhaling deeply.
Fuck… The heady scent of her desire almost made him come. He wanted to blur into her space and bury himself between her thighs, right bloody now.
But… no. He’d just gotten her back. And thanks to rush-hour traffic, they had two long hours before they reached Ravenswood, trapped together behind the darkly tinted windows, nothing to do but reacquaint themselves with their favorite sinful delights.
Naked before him, Charlotte leaned back against the soft leather, arms at her sides, her legs slightly parted.
Dorian took a moment to drink her in, his gaze raking over every inch of newly bared flesh, heart slamming against his ribs, cock straining behind his zipper.
“Anything else, Mr. Redthorne?” she asked, further parting her thighs to reveal